The door opened. A Black woman stood before them, her eyes downcast.

“Miz Larner or Miz Smith or whatever name she's using, Margaret anyway, she's expecting to meet us downstairs,” said Calvin.

Wordlessly the Black woman backed away to let them come in. Honor‚ stopped in the doorway, took the woman by the chin, and lifted her head till their eyes met. «What do you want? In the whole world, what do you want most?»

For a moment the woman looked at him in terror. Her eyes darted left, right. Honor‚ knew she wanted to look down again, to get back to the safe and orderly world, but she did not dare to turn her face away from him as long as he held her chin, for fear he would denounce her as insolent. And then she stopped trying to look away, but rather locked her gaze on his eyes, as if she could see into him and recognized that he meant her no harm, but only wanted to understand her.

“What do you want?” he asked again.

Her lips moved.

“You can tell me,” he said.

“A name,” she whispered.

Then she tore herself away and fled the room.

Honor‚ looked after her, bemused. «What do you suppose she meant by that?» he asked. «Surely she has a name– how else would her master call her when he wanted her?»

“You'll have to ask Margaret,” said Calvin. “She's the one who sees what's going on inside everybody's head.”

They sat on the porch, watching bees and hummingbirds raid the flowers in the garden. Soon Calvin began to amuse himself by making the bees' wings stop flapping. He'd point to a bee and then it would drop like a stone. A moment later, dazed and annoyed, it would start to buzz again and rise into the air. By then Calvin would be pointing to another bee and making it fall. Honor‚ laughed because it was funny to see them fall, to imagine their confusion. «Please don't do it to the hummingbirds,» Honor‚ said.

He regretted at once that he had said such a foolish thing. For of course that was exactly what Calvin had to do. He pointed. The hummingbird's wings stopped. It plummeted to the ground. But it did not buzz and rise back into the sky. Instead it struggled there, flapping one wing while the other lay useless in the dirt.

«Why would you break such a beautiful creature?» said Honor‚.

“Who makes the rules?” said Calvin. “Why is it funny to do it to bees but not to birds?”

«Because it doesn't hurt the bee,» said Honor‚. «Because hummingbirds don't sting. Because there are millions of bees but hummingbirds are as rare as angels.»

“Not around here,” said Calvin.

“You mean there are many angels in Camelot?”

“I meant there are thousands of hummingbirds. They're like squirrels they're so common.”

“So it is all right to break this one's wing and let it die?”

“What is it, God watches the sparrows and you're in charge of hummingbirds?”

«If you can't fix it,» said Honor‚, «you shouldn't break it.»

Calvin glowered, then pushed himself out of his chair, vaulted the railing, and knelt down by the hummingbird. He fiddled with the wing, trying to straighten it. The bird kept struggling in his grasp.

“Hold still, dammit.”

Calvin held the broken wing straight, closed his eyes, concentrated. But the fluttering of the bird kept annoying him. He made an exasperated gesture, as if he were shaking a child, and the bones of the wing crumbled in his fingers. He took his hands away and looked at the ruined wing, a sick expression on his face.

«Is this a game?» asked Honor‚. «See how many times can you break the same hummingbird wing?»

Calvin looked at him in fury. “Shut your damn mouth.”

“The bird is in pain, Monsieur le Maker.”

Calvin leapt to his feet and stomped down hard on the bird. “Now it's not.”

«Calvin the healer,» said Honor‚. Despite the jesting tone he was sick at heart. It was his goading that had killed the bird. Not that there was any hope for it. It was doomed to die as soon as Calvin made it fall from the air. But even that had been partly Honor‚'s fault for having asked Calvin not to do it. He knew, or should have known, that would be a goad to him.

«You made me do it,» said Calvin. He couldn't meet Honor‚'s gaze. This worried Honor‚ more than a defiant glare would have. Calvin felt shamed in front of his friend. That did not bode well for that friend's future.

«Nonsense,» said Honor‚ cheerfully. «It was your own wise choice. Do not kill bees, for they make honey! But what does a humming bird make? A splash of color in the air, and then it dies, and voila! A splash of color on the ground. And where is color more needed? The air is full of bright color. The ground never has enough of it. You have made the world more beautiful.»

“Someday I'll be sick of you and your sick jokes,” said Calvin.

“What's taking you so long? I'm already sick of me.”

“But you like your jokes,” said Calvin.

«I never know whether I will like them until I hear myself say them,» said Honor‚.

He heard footsteps inside the house, coming to the door. He turned. Margaret Smith was a stern-looking woman, but not unattractive. Au contraire, she was noticeably attractive. Perhaps some might think her too tall for Honor‚'s comfort, but like most short men, Honor‚ had long since had to settle for the idea of admiring taller women; any other choice would curtail too sharply the pool of available ladies.

Not that this one was available. She raised one eyebrow very slightly, as if to let Honor‚ know that she recognized his admiration of her and thought it sweet but stupid of him. Then she turned her attention to Calvin.

“I remember once,” she said, “I saw Alvin heal a broken animal.”

Honor‚ winced and stole a glance at Calvin. To his surprise, instead of exploding with wrath, Calvin only smiled at the lady. «Nice to meet you, Margaret,» he said.

“Let's get one thing straight from the start,” said Margaret. “I know every nasty little thing you've ever done. I know how much you hate and envy my husband. I know the rage you feel for me at this moment and how you long to humiliate me. Let's have no pretenses between us.”

“All right,” said Calvin, smiling. “I want to make love to you. I want to make you pregnant with my baby instead of Alvin's.”

“The only thing you want is to make me angry and afraid,” said Margaret. “You want me to wonder if you'll use your powers to harm the baby inside my womb and then to seduce me the way you did with another poor woman. So let me put your mind at rest. The hexes that protect my baby were made by Alvin himself, and you don't have the skill to penetrate them.”

“Do you think not?” said Calvin.

“I know you don't,” said Margaret, “because you've already tried and failed and you don't even begin to understand why. As for wanting to seduce me– save those efforts for someone who doesn't see through your pretenses. Now, are we going to dinner or not?”

«I'm hungry,» said Honor‚, desperate to turn the conversation away from the dangerous hostility with which it had begun. Didn't this woman know what kind of madman Calvin was? «Where shall we eat?»

“Since I'm expected to pay,” said Margaret, “it will have to be in a restaurant I can afford.”

«Excellent,» said Honor‚. «I am ill at the thought of eating at the kind of restaurant I can afford.»

That earned him a tiny hint of a smile from the stern Mrs. Smith. “Give me your arm, Monsieur de Balzac. Let's not tell my brother-in-law where we're going.”

«Very funny,» said Calvin, climbing over the railing and back onto the porch. The edge of fury was out of his voice. Honor‚ was relieved.

This woman, this torch, she must truly understand Calvin better than Honor‚ did, for Calvin seemed to be calming down even though she had goaded him so dangerously. Of course, if she was protected by hexes that might give her more confidence.

Or was it hexes she was counting on? She was married to the Maker that Calvin longed to be– maybe she simply counted on Calvin's knowledge that if he hanned her or her baby, he would have to face the wrath of his brother at long last, and he knew he was no match for Alvin Maker. Someday he would have it out with him, but he wasn't ready, and so Calvin would not harm Alvin's wife or unborn baby.